


we shed these rags of bloody skin

by ohfreckle



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Anal Sex, Angst, Character Death, Felching, M/M, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfreckle/pseuds/ohfreckle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trained assassins and the sons of a mobster boss, Thor and Loki live hard and fast.</p><p>Everything goes to hell after Thor's confession that he feels more than brotherly love and Loki can't deal with it. They sort things out eventually with a little help from a friend, but then a new job comes around and things get even worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we shed these rags of bloody skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ryane_Monju](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryane_Monju/gifts).



> This is my loooong overdue charity fic for May Neuma, who won my services at fandomaid ages ago and has been beyond patient with my inexcusable tardiness.
> 
> She asked for angst, a happy ending and Thor bottoming. I hope this fic delivers ;)

Carnage.

As crass and melodramatic as it sounds, there isn’t any other way to describe the wreckage of what has once been an upscale office in downtown Chicago.

Loki crosses the vast room slowly, carefully avoiding the red stains on the plush white carpet. They’re still fresh, slowly seeping in and spreading sluggishly. Not that it matters, the whole place is beyond any kind of salvation.

He toes the body in front of him, mindful of his shoes. There’s no reaction, but Loki didn’t expect one, not with the countless bullet holes riddling the perfectly tailored Tom Ford suit. It’s a shame, Loki thinks regretfully, he has quite a weakness for Ford’s simple elegance.

“Was that really necessary,” Loki asks with a sigh. 

He steps over the body of who he suspects was once Stafford Elijah Quigley and comes to stand before Thor, who sits in Quigley’s huge cream-colored leather chair, his MP5K on the sleek steel-and-glass desk in front of him. He looks– tense, dangerous. 

“I forgot my Walther,” Thor says, as if that would explain the total train wreck around them. 

He carelessly wipes a few specks of blood from his leather jacket, tucks a strand of hair back into the little bun he usually wears, and God, does Loki want to punch him, but it’ll have to wait until later. It’s a wonder the street isn’t already crawling with officers and Loki is in no mood to test their luck any further.

“You forgot— Christ, do you _want_ us to get caught? Go, I’ll meet you at the hotel,” Loki says tightly. 

“Just fucking go,” he barks when Thor takes his sweet time. 

“And zip your jacket, your shirt is full of blood.” 

Christ.

Loki looks around frantically, gauges the best course of action to deal with this mess while at the same time he listens to the heavy thud of Thor’s boots. It’s muffled by the carpet, but Thor is smart enough to not linger on a hit scene, and in those rare instances that he isn’t he’s at least smart enough to listen to Loki.

Loki has two minutes, three minutes tops. Gunfire doesn’t go unheard in this area. Thor wore gloves, which means no prints, which is good. If it weren’t so late erasing the security tapes would be enough, but the scene looks too close to their last job for Loki’s peace of mind. The last thing he needs is a bunch of overeager detectives trailing after them in a frantic search for a serial killer and their next promotion. 

A few well-placed flicks of his wrist and the knives he wears in his sleeves make the sofa on the far side spill its foamy guts. Another flick and the flames from his lighter lick greedily over the stuffing. Without an accelerator it’s not enough to torch the place, but the small flame will be enough for a smoldering fire that will bury all evidence under a layer of soot and sprinkling water.

`****`

The hotel room he shares with Thor is empty when he comes back after a careful route designed to shake any possible followers. They both have apartments in the city, but they always stay at a hotel before and after a job. It means that they spend more time in hotel rooms than at home, but so far it works for them.

It’s not the smartest thing to share a room let alone at the same hotel, but riding the high of a kill they both need the reassurance that the other is ok. Their mother calls it dangerously codependent, their father doesn’t exactly approve either, but he respects blood ties. 

Loki really doesn’t care _what_ it is, as long as nobody fucks with it. He needs his brother, it’s simple as that.

Thor’s bloody shirt and leather jacket are thrown carelessly over his bed, so he’s probably out to get laid. Loki undresses quickly and adds his clothes to the pile on Thor’s bed before he steps into the shower. Room service will take care of it tomorrow, there’s no need to be careful or tidy.

Loki scrubs himself down briskly, still tense and angry at his idiot of a brother. 

He hopes Thor is out, fucking whatever it is that’s bothering him out of his system. Thor’s handle on his temper is lax at the best of the times, but lately it’s becoming a problem. 

Quigley should have been an easy hit. Go in, take him out with a single shot, erase the evidence, get out. There was no reason for Thor not to wait for Loki and there was most certainly no reason to take Quigley down mob-style. Just because they _are_ the head of organized crime doesn’t mean they have to do things this crudely. 

Loki punches the tiles, cursing at the sharp pain that shoots up to his elbow and makes him see stars for a moment. It grounds him for a split second, but then a new bout of anger wells up inside of him. 

Fuck. 

Of course their father will be pissed at the headlines this is going to make, and of course he’ll blame Loki because he was five minutes late, which wasn’t even his doing but simply an ambulance blocking the street. Never mind that Thor acted like an impatient four-year old that couldn’t wait to get his hands in the cookie jar.

Back in the bedroom Loki grabs the next best thing to wear for the night. He steps into his boxers, pulling them impatiently over his hips, and slips into an old t-shirt that is too big to be his own. It smells faintly of Dior Homme, like _Thor_. 

As mad as he is at Thor right now it shouldn’t be familiar and comforting, shouldn’t soothe him when he breathes in deeply, but it does. But even with Thor’s smell surrounding him like a security blanket, it still takes Loki a long time to fall asleep. 

He wakes to muffled curses and the smell of booze and sickeningly sweet perfume, and the heavy bulk of Thor slumped against his back. Loki can feel Thor’s lips move against his back through his t-shirt. The sound is completely unintelligible, but Loki is perfectly fluent in Thor’s drunken grunts and even half asleep he easily deciphers the _I’m sorry, brother_ for what it is. 

There’s a nagging voice in the back of his sleep-muddled mind that sounds suspiciously like their mother Frigga, telling him that it’s not normal for two brothers in their mid and late twenties to sleep tangled up like that. He firmly tells it to shut up and goes back to sleep, lulled by Thor’s familiar sighs and snuffles. 

`****`

“What the fuck is your problem,” Loki grouses. 

He’s on his third cup of coffee and has asked the same fucking question just as often, but Thor keeps shoveling food in his mouth as if that would somehow spare him from having to breathe or talk eventually. It’s giving Loki a headache.

“Fine, keep it to yourself then, asshole,” he swears, ignoring the scandalized looks the other patrons throw his way. 

He still lowers his voice before he hisses at Thor, but only because he quite likes this coffee shop and doesn’t want to get banned before he even has a chance to become a regular. Finding a place in walking distance to most upscale hotels that serves excellent coffee is like a win in the lottery.

“Just remember next time that we’re professionals and not children playing in a sandbox,” Loki says. “Father’s words, not mine.”

And that isn’t a conversation Loki ever wants to have again. While Thor was snoring off his hangover, Loki had been summoned to Odin’s townhouse, receiving a dressing down that still has him feeling raw like the skin has been flayed off his back. He took it like the loyal son and brother that he is, without complaint, no questions asked. 

Him and Thor, they never ask questions, it’s easier that way. Loki doesn’t know what Quigley did for Odin to want him dead, but he was gone the second he did it. 

Loki is on his fourth cup before the bottomless maw that is Thor’s stomach seems to be finally appeased. Thor throws his napkin onto the dish-laden tray with a heavy sigh. 

“Loki, look, I’m sorry. I– fuck.” 

Thor slumps back in his seat and rubs a large hand over his face, brushing his hair back from his eyes. His hasn’t tied it back today, and the two brunettes on the table next to them aren’t the only ones in the room who seem to be fascinated by the shoulder-length blond strands. 

Loki knows he looks good, but it’s Thor who always turns heads with his golden hair and powerful build, effortless grace and rippling power wrapped into an irresistible package. Today, even looking rumpled and hungover, is no different.

“I just have a lot on my mind lately. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“And this something is so terrible that you can’t tell me?” 

Loki feels the sour tang of frustration well up. They share literally everything, thoughts, secrets, what little dreams they have left, cars and girls. He can’t think of a single thing that he wouldn’t share with Thor. Learning that Thor is holding something back from him makes him feel oddly betrayed. 

“No. I mean yes, I don’t think I can tell you. Not yet, anyways.” 

Thor stands abruptly, effectively ending this awkward conversation, and throws some bills on the table. He tilts his head, indicating that Loki should follow, and stretches luxuriously with his arms stretched over his head. His shirt rides up, showing a strip of tan skin and golden hair. 

“Show off,” Loki mutters when more than a few heads turn and look Thor over appreciatively, but he follows all the same. 

They spend the day shopping, and Loki ends up with a new leather jacket paid out of Thor’s pocket. It doesn’t necessarily make his day a good one, Odin made sure of that, but some days tolerable has to suffice.

`****`

Four weeks. 

Twenty-seven days without a job are enough to make Loki want to claw his skin out of sheer boredom. 

Loki’s mornings are spent at the shooting range, testing new rifles and equipment, firing off enough shots to take out a middle-sized town. He spends a small fortune on his spring wardrobe and watches too many action movies, making a dent into Thor’s ugly, way too comfortable mustard-yellow couch. He shares too many pizzas with Thor, giving a scathing running commentary on the hero-of-the-day bullshitting his way through terribly coordinated combat scenes.

“You know I love you, but you’re a terrible houseguest,” Thor says. “You need to go out, have some fun.” Thor grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Get laid.”

“I got laid last week. Twins. I’m still recovering.” 

Loki stretches a bit and burrows deeper into the couch, digging his shoulders into the buttery leather of the arm rest behind him. He’s sprawled over the couch with his feet in Thor’s lap, Thor lounging against the other end of the couch, and Loki couldn’t be more comfortable. He sighs in remembered bliss.

“You had twins and didn’t share,” Thor says accusingly. His hand stops mid-air, the slice of pizza he’s holding forgotten and dripping tomato sauce onto Loki’s foot. Loki kicks him. Hard.

“Sorry, brother, neither of us was in any shape to think of anything but fucking and then sleep.” 

Loki smirks. His sheets had been completely ruined, always a good sign.

“So got you laid spectacularly and are still moping on my couch,” Thor says, exasperated. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

Loki remembers asking the same questions weeks ago and _that_ is his fucking problem. Thor is mostly back to his old brash self, but somehow something is still off. Like he’s slowly withdrawing from Loki. 

They have spent less time together lately than they would usually do, with Thor spending even more hours in the gym and his mornings at Odin’s townhouse. 

Loki tells himself it’s only natural. Thor is the heir to the throne of Chicago’s underworld and it’s more than time that he shows some interest in the business side.

Still, it’s a constant nagging in the back of Loki’s mind, how and why Thor is slipping away from him. But no matter how long or often he thinks about what he may have done to drive his brother away, he always comes up empty-handed.

Maybe it’s Odin. He’s never made it a secret that he disapproves of their closeness. It’s hard not to feel bitter, but Loki has always come second. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Odin asked Thor to finally keep a little distance.

“Sex isn’t the cure all, my dear Thor,” Loki says, which earns him a disbelieving snort from the man. “You should know, it definitely isn’t helping with _your_ issues.”

If he had any hope that the barb would trick Thor into spilling his guts, it’s shot straight to hell. Thor’s bright blue eyes go dim as if a curtain is drawn, locking all the good humor behind a veil of moodiness. He gives Loki a peculiar look that’s equally surprise and relief.

“Maybe I’m just bored,” Loki says finally to break the uncomfortable silence that’s suddenly thick in the air. Telling only half the truth isn’t lying. If Thor is too stubborn to confide in Loki, then Loki is entitled to keep some things to himself as well.

“Only you could be bored by having enough free time for the fun things in life,” Thor says. He heaves a put upon sigh. It’s affectionate, but Loki still digs his toes into Thor’s stomach to make his annoyance known. 

“However,” Thor says. He draws the word out dramatically and makes this little face, with his lips pouting for the tiniest bit and his nose twitching. “Being the good brother that I am, I can help you with that.” 

He catches Loki’s feet in his big hands easily and holds them still against his stomach, pressing his thumbs hard into the soles. Loki can’t hold back a groan of pure bliss. Who knew his brother has hidden talents as a massage therapist.

“Help me how,” Loki asks distractedly, flexing his feet. 

"We have a new job. Things to do, people to shoot.“ 

"What? Father didn’t call me,“ Loki says, frowning at Thor. He reaches for his phone on the coffee table and sits up, regretfully removing his feet from Thor’s unexpectedly capable hands. 

Except for the time the screen is blank, which is odd. Everything concerning jobs goes through Loki’s hands first. He wouldn’t go so far to say that he’s the brain and Thor is the muscle, because that’s as far from the truth as it gets, but Thor doesn’t have much patience for the meticulous planning their job requires and is more than happy to leave this early stage of a hit to Loki. 

“He called earlier, thought you’d be here,” Thor explains. “Helbindi and Iseke, no last names, to be done by next Friday.” 

“Are you sure?” Loki looks at Thor in surprise. “I know you’re perfectly capable of taking a call,” he amends quickly when it’s Thor’s turn to frown. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“And why is that?”

Thor looks at him quizzically, head cocked to the side, easily slipping into professional mode. Patience or not, every detail is important and worth to be heard out. 

“I’ve never heard of Iseke, but Helbindi is one of Laufey’s closest staff,” Loki says thoughtfully. He racks his brain for details, but comes up with little enough.

“Laufey, as in alderman Laufey?" Thor looks as stunned as Loki feels. “Our man Laufey?” 

“He’s in charge of financial transactions. I’ve seen him at father’s house once or twice, I think. Big, burly guy, looks like a freight train.” 

Loki and Thor have known Laufey since they were old enough to be introduced to their father’s business. Bribery and corruption are much too crude words for the delicate equilibrium between organized crime and politicians. Financial transaction is a far more preferable term for the exchange of money against certain favors.

Thor looks as uneasy as Loki feels about this. He promises to talk to Odin about it tomorrow, but it’s not enough to put Loki at ease.

`****`

As it turns out, Helbindi is indeed their man. 

“Are you questioning my decisions,” Odin asks when Loki points out _again_ that killing Laufey’s right hand may be detrimental to Asgard’s political connections. 

“Of course not,” Loki defers. “I just feel that—“

“Enough,” Odin says, standing from his seat and rounding his large desk briskly. 

“Your _feelings_ are of no importance here. You have explained yourself and you will have to take my word on it that you are not privy to all the information that has lead to this unanimous decision.”

Loki knows he’s dismissed when the door clicks shut behind Odin. 

He quietly curses himself for departing from his path of no-questions-asked that has always served him well so far. He doesn’t doubt Odin’s experience and his abilities to run their business smoothly, the man taught him everything he knows after all. But Loki can’t shake off the slight feeling of uneasiness that this will come back to cause one hell of trouble. 

`****`

“Aren’t you supposed to provide for your younger sibling properly,” Loki complains three days later.

He looks into the empty tin that usually holds the special roast of coffee beans he prefers, furious. 

“If you’re letting me do all the work that’s the least you could do, you oaf,” Loki says.

Thor just grins at Loki over the rim of his mug and nudges the tin with Columbian beans closer to him.

“Just because you can stomach that swill doesn’t mean I have to give up my standards.” 

Loki squints at Thor. “ _French roast_ ,” he insists. He doesn’t care if he’s unreasonable. He has every reason to be, because he’s cold and dead on his feet after three days of surveillance.

Thor laughs, a deep rumbling sound that sounds warm and like home. 

“All right, all right,” he says. “Easy there, brother. Sit down and let me serve you.” 

Loki lets himself be guided to the table and sits heavily on one of the chairs. He watches while Thor pulls a brand new bag of beans from the fridge and fills some into the small coffee maker he keeps only for Loki. It’s mainly for Thor’s own benefit, so he doesn’t have to swap beans all the times, and even if Loki has a similar set up at home, the thoughtfulness still makes him smile. 

He inhales the first cup in record time and takes only slightly longer with the second. 

“You know, this is almost too easy,” Loki says, finally able to function properly again now that he’s properly caffeinated.

“What, the job or getting me to make you coffee,” Thor asks, good-naturedly. “Maybe you’re just too smart for them.”

“You love me, getting you to obey my every whim is always a given,” Loki grins, but sobers up as soon as he thinks about the last three days. 

“They both have irregular schedules and are never together at any time of the day. We’d have to split up to get to both of them at the same time. Lucky for us, they both report to Laufey every evening, and before that they meet a small kebab place not far from Laufey’s house."

Loki grimaces at their choice of a dining establishment. It’ll be some time until he’ll have a craving for Lahmacun again.

“The delivery entrance is at the back, and even luckier for us they both have a smoke there before they head to Laufey. There are enough crates and boxes to give us cover. Easy in, easy out. It’s almost too good to be true.”

`****`

Friday night Loki finds himself face down on yet another hotel bed while he waits for Thor to finish his shower. 

As it turns out, the job _was_ that easy. Thor and Loki waited for Helbindi and Iseke in the cover of the back alley and walked away almost too easily after taking them out with two clean shots. 

Loki lets his mind go blank while he listens to the muffled sound of running water. Uneasiness is still prickling at his neck, something that doesn’t sit right with him about the job, but it’s done now and time to let go. 

Him and Thor, they both wind down differently after a hit. Thor likes to go out and celebrate, drink and fuck until he passes out. Loki, who usually does most of the research and surveillance, just likes to pass out and sleep it off and reward himself later.

A sudden sprinkle of droplets suddenly hits Loki’s arms and the side of his face. He must have dozed off, because he didn’t hear the shower stop or Thor approach him.

“Come with me,” Thor says. “It’s been ages since we had some fun together.”

He shakes his head, long blond strands flaying everywhere like the big golden puppy he is, and another shower hits Loki.

Loki blinks tiny droplets from his lashes and glares at his brother in annoyance. The way Thor looks at him with _adorable_ hovering on his lips, it’s probably not very effective and Loki looks very much like the wet cat he feels like right now. 

“Go away. Chase some tail and let me be in peace,” he grunts. “Some of us do actually a little more work than stand around and look menacing. ”

“I’m also a damn good shot and watch your skinny ass when all your precious research is for nothing, little brother,” Thor smirks. “Remember Jormun—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Loki grumbles and rolls to his feet, heading for the bathroom. Some things are better not remembered, especially less than stellar jobs that remind him of his failures and put that smug grin on Thor’s face. 

“Just go,” Loki says. “If you wake me when you come back, I’ll stab you without any regrets whatsoever.”

Loki showers with the water as hot as he can stand it. It feels good, but it can’t quite calm his mind the way he hoped. 

Loki knows they can’t go on like this for much longer. Shooting people for a living at their father’s behest, living hard and fast in-between. They’ll have to take responsibility eventually, with Thor taking over the business of ruling the underworld, and Loki— 

Loki carefully seals away any thought of a life after Thor will take over the company. There’s still time before that. Odin is strong as an ox and just the thought of him retiring completely is unthinkable. Him and Thor, they’ll have a little while longer. 

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered, shaved and moisturized, with a towel slung low on his hips, Loki finds Thor sitting against the headboard of his bed.

“That was fast. Didn’t see anything to your fancy?”

Thor looks at Loki with an oddly vulnerable look on his face, like he’s about to say something he knows he’ll regret the instant the words leave his mouth. Loki thinks about all the time Thor has spent with Odin lately and feels dread settle coldly his stomach. Just a few minutes ago this moment seemed like a distant future.

“I see something that I fancy quite all right,” Thor says softly. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, and his hand is shaking.

It takes Loki several moments to process the words. 

A slew of possibilities flit through his mind, the most prominent _of course he does, he’s my brother_ , something that he’s always been proud of, but that is also the painful crux of the matter. The way Thor looks at him— the way Loki can feel those blue eyes stroke lazily over his still damp skin just like he knows Thor’s large rough hands would do, is unmistakeable. 

“We’re brothers,” Loki whispers on a rush of breath. There’s no use in pretending he didn’t understand and let something so huge fester between them. He hates the way his voice wavers.

Thor barks a short, humorless laugh.

“You just shot two men without blinking an eye. Don’t tell me that you suddenly found a deeply hidden affinity with law and morality.”

“It’s _incest_ ,” Loki says helplessly. He’s still standing in the middle of the room, finds himself unable to move.

“Always with the big words, that’s my Loki,” Thor says. 

He looks at Loki with a sad, lopsided smile that rattles Loki to the core. He always thought of Thor with his quick temper as a thunderstorm that sweeps away everything in its way, but he never thought a few quietly spoken words by him would leave him feel like he’s struck by lightning.

“I– I want you to go,” is what finally comes out of his mouth. His own surprise at it is mirrored in Thor’s eyes.

“Loki–”

“Just go,” Loki snaps. He remembers saying those exact words just a few weeks ago and how Thor had been somehow seemed distracted and not like himself since then.

“You’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” Loki says, his voice breaking.

He sits down heavily on his own bed, unable to breathe around the knot in his chest. Everything makes sense suddenly. Thor has been carrying this for weeks, probably knew that it would come to this, their world crumbling in the blink of an eye at something so huge, yet still hoping.

“Months, actually,” Thor replies. He tips his head against the head board with a heavy sigh, but he’s still watching Loki closely from the corners of his eyes. 

“Remember Aidan? I was fucking him and suddenly it was all wrong because he wasn’t you. I can’t stop thinking about it since then. You mean _everything_ to me, more than any lover I’ve ever had. I just– God, Loki, I want to have you in every way possible.”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up,” Loki grits out. 

He’s completely numb, unable to process what Thor is asking of him. 

“You, you, you. Everything is always about you, what _you_ want. Have you even thought about what _I_ want, what you’re asking of me, you selfish prick.”

Loki presses the heels of his hands against eyes that are suddenly and inexplicable wet, until tiny bursts of colors explode in his vision. He already feels a sense of loss, like there’s a rapidly growing chasm between him and Thor that will rip them apart.

“Have you even thought about what this will do to us if I won’t – _can’t_ do this with you? Did you think I’d just say ‘Sure, let’s fuck’ and fall into your arms?”

The silence from Thor’s side is telling enough. 

`****`

The silent click of the door rings loudly in the air long after Thor is gone. 

Impossibly, Loki falls asleep and sleeps fitfully through most of the night, emotionally exhausted and cheeks still wet.

He barely remembers checking out the next morning or taking a taxi back to his apartment. He’s working on autopilot, actually not so different from a job where he crams all emotions into a tiny compartment of his mind.

Loki sighs when the depths of his coffee cup don’t provide any answers.

He remembers the countless times Thor sat next to him here at his kitchen table and wonders why exactly Thor’s confession is shaking him so badly. 

Thor was right, Loki’s knee-jerk reaction of _incest_ is complete and other bullshit. Neither of them give a fuck about the law, and Loki is pretty sure that incest would be one of their lesser or more forgivable crimes.

It’s not the gay part, either. Loki has never even thought twice about Thor’s choice of partners, and while it seems like ages ago, Loki had more than his share of male lovers back in college. He’d never given much thought as to why his preferences shifted, it just didn’t happen again and the many differences of female bodies held too much appeal to even look back.

Loki busies himself by washing his cup in the sink, startling when he realizes that he unconsciously chose Thor’s cup. It’s an enormous white mug, with a doodle of a Golden Retriever with fur exactly the shade of Thor’s hair, a huge tongue lolling out of its mouth, making it look like it’s grinning happily. A wreath of flowers is sitting a little lopsided on its head, partly slipping over a floppy ear. Under the dog it say’s _Thor’s Mug_ in Darcy’s curly handwriting.

Loki smiles fondly at the memory of Darcy doodling it on a napkin in a club, totally wasted after an attempt at out-drinking Thor. 

Thor was almost as drunk as her, happy and loving everything and everyone, absolutely smitten with Darcy’s slurred insults that he was just a huge harmless puppy. The napkin had been gone at the end of the night, but four weeks later Darcy had given the mug to Thor as a present, complete with a matching one that is still sitting in Thor’s kitchen cabinet, saying _Loki’s Mug_ and showing a hissing black cat with a large green bow between its ears.

Thinking about his best and quite possibly only real friend calms Loki a little. 

He hasn’t talked to her in while, so he’s due for an earful very soon. Being the good friend that she is, Darcy will notice that something is wrong the second she walks through the door. Loki thinks he should just get it over with and call her. She’ll know what to do, female intuition and all (which Loki actually believes in). 

But there’s also the possibility that she’ll force him to think about things he’d rather not contemplate right now.

Calling her tomorrow will be soon enough.

`****`

It’s nine days of too much TV and too much spicy Thai food before Loki picks up the phone, but it’s not Darcy he calls.

“Father called, we have a job,” he says, trying to keep any emotion from his voice. 

“When and where?”

It’s barely more than a grunt, but it sounds as tired as Loki feels. 

For a moment Loki is viciously pleased at that, but the feeling immediately makes place for a mix of sadness and anger. Several times each day he’d found himself with his phone in his hand, the habit of calling or texting Thor throughout the day so ingrained in him that he canceled the call several times with the dial tone already in his ear.

Thor never called him back.

`****`

It’s almost funny, the way Loki is beginning to feel like he’s stuck in Groundhog Day.

He’s sitting on Thor’s ugly couch, and again he feels like what Odin is asking of them is utterly wrong. Only where he felt mild uneasiness about Helbindi last time, this time he worries that maybe Odin has lost it. Thor is standing a safe distance away at the window, carefully avoiding any kind of accidental touch or eye contact. 

Everything in Loki screams _wrong_.

“Killing Laufey is insane,” Loki says, tiredly. He already told Odin and Thor as much, but he feels it bears repeating. 

“He’s a source of information and protection and information we can’t afford to lose. Let’s not even talk about what kind of public investigation will take place if an alderman dies under less than normal circumstances.”

“Are you saying you’re afraid to do it?”

Loki stares at Thor like he’s grown a second head.

“Are you missing the point of ‘source of information and protection’? This is hardly the time for truth and dare,” Loki bites out.

Thor doesn’t look at him, just like he didn’t look at him the whole time they spent sitting next to each other awkwardly in their father’s den, listening to Odin unravel this ludicrous plan. 

Loki used to be able to read Thor like an open book, but the stony look Thor has been wearing since they met at Odin’s house doesn’t give away anything at all. Maybe he was never able to read Thor at all, Loki thinks with a pang, maybe all this time he could only do it because Thor _let_ him. He shoves the thought into that tiny compartment where he locks everything that doesn’t bear thinking.

“Laufey isn’t what he seems,” Thor offers haltingly. 

“What? Wait– is this what you’ve been doing with father, holed up in his office? Cooking up this utter–”

“He’s the head of Jotunheim,” Thor interrupts him. He leaves his place at the window and paces the room impatiently. 

Loki looks up at him, utterly stunned. 

Jotunheim is the second large crime organization in the city. They’re not as big as Asgard, and despite a healthy rivalry between their organizations, Jotunheim hasn’t been a threat for longer than Loki can remember. He always assumed this was the reason why Odin was content to watch them closely and only intervene in their dealings where he deemed it necessary.

“But that’s Farbauti. She’s been their leader since– I don’t know, forever.”

“It seems Laufey and Farbauti were married back then. They separated as a couple, but have remained business partners and led Jotunheim together all these years, with Laufey acting from the background and using his political influence to their advantage.”

“And to our disadvantage by feeding us false information.” 

Loki’s mind is whirling, and he doesn’t need to see Thor’s nod of confirmation to know that he’s right. If this is true, and while Loki plans to do his most thorough research he has no doubt that it is, then it means war. Odin never forgives, and he won’t sit back and watch Laufey betray their silent standstill agreement.

“This will be difficult,” Loki muses, snuggling deeper into the couch out of habit. “He rarely leaves the house without security."

“A long distance shot then,” Thor says, sitting down on the arm at the other end of the couch. Loki tries very hard not to notice the distance he keeps between them. “Everything else is too risky. Finding the right time and place will be hard enough.”

“Nothing links us to Helbindi so far, but he knows me, so you will have to do the actual surveillance,” Loki suggests. “I’ll watch his office. There’s little chance that we’ll gather much from that except his working times, but we shouldn’t let it slide.”

“That coffee shop you liked is right across the street from his office,” Thor says. “You could make yourself a regular there. He won’t suspect that you’re anything but the man of leisure you are, but if he gets suspicious it’ll make him focus on you and give me plenty room to follow him.”

Loki feels his heart beat faster, and it’s only partly because of the impending hunt. Suddenly everything between them is so easy again. They fit together like they always do, reading each other’s mind and throwing ideas at each other. 

Complementing each other. 

For a moment Loki almost feels giddy with relief, before the proverbial elephant in the room catches up with him and squashes him thoroughly. 

He’s not proud of himself when he flees with a mumbled excuse of going to work immediately. 

Thor’s look of want and longing burns like a mark on Loki’s neck.

`****`

In the safety of his apartment Loki _does_ go to work, armed with his oldest sweat pants and a glass of wine. It makes him feel only slightly less pathetic and still very much like a coward, but he can’t be bothered to care.

It works for an hour.

Loki loses himself in press articles about Laufey, makes notes about where he’s been seen out and about, where he eats regularly, his schedule at the City Council. It’s not enough and he’ll have to think about a way of unobtrusive surveillance until he can even start to cross-reference everything and find the perfect time for the assault, but it’s a start and it distracts him.

But his mind inevitably wanders back to Thor. Seeing him again had been awkward and painful for both of them, but back at Thor’s apartment things had been— good, like they used to be.

Thor had looked good, hair open and biceps bulging, his v-neck stretching tightly over his arms and chest. It wasn’t any different from the way he always looks, but Loki found himself noticing little details he’d never given much thought, like Thor’s hair seemed to be a shade lighter and needed a cut, and the way his nipples pressed tightly against the thin fabric.

Loki sucks in a sharp breath at the slight tug in his balls at the memory. He feels a brief flash of guilt, but it feels so fucking _good_ and even better when he presses down on his cock, the tips of his fingers rubbing the soft material of his sweats over his sac. He teases himself slowly, hips rolling up against his hand.

His cock is wet when he finally slips his hands inside his pants. It’s warm and slippery, and Loki strokes himself, fist tight, straining now until he feels the first tingle of orgasm spread hotly up his spine. He rolls his foreskin over his glans and runs the tip of his forefinger under the snug little hood it creates. 

Loki comes hard, his breath punched out of him at the images that come rushing unbidden to his mind. _Thor naked, moving powerfully between Loki’s legs._ He’s not sure if the low moan he hears is his own or his imaginary self’s, but the thick and sticky mess on his hands probably means it doesn’t matter.

`****`

“You look like shit.”

Darcy shoulders her way inside the apartment and almost knocks Loki over with the bulky bag she’s carrying.

“Good to see you’re losing sleep over neglecting your best, and might I add _only_ friend,” she continues. 

Loki decides against even deigning that with an answer. Instead he closes the door behind Darcy and flips her off on their way to the living room.

Darcy has already plunked herself on the couch and starts to unearth various tupperware boxes from the depths of her gigantic messenger bag, stacking them on the coffee table and, Loki notices with a wince, on the white fur rug between the table and the couch.

“Hey, dickhead, stop worrying about your pimp rug,” Darcy smirks up at him. “If I feed your skinny ass, the least you can do is to provide some of your sinfully good coffee.”

“If I must. Since you asked so nicely.”

In the kitchen Loki hasn’t even finished filling the machine with beans when Darcy shows up. She presses up against his back and gets some plates from the open shelves that line the wall above the counter, pressing a kiss against his temple.

“You could have just yelled at me to bring them,” Loki says mildly and presses the button on the coffee maker.

“But it’s much more fun like this,” Darcy sing-songs before she suddenly looks at him sadly. She swipes a thumb over Loki’s cheekbone, outlining the dark circle under his eye. “You look like you need a kiss, and a boatload of hugs on top of it.”

Just like that the mood has suddenly grown serious, and much too early for Loki’s taste.

They sit down next to each other on the couch for coffee and cake. It’s frighteningly bourgeois and normal, but it _is_ actually tea time somewhere in the world. Loki is only two bites into a slice of absolutely indecent blueberry cake when Darcy cuts right to the chase.

“What did he do this time?”

The answer to that takes Loki exactly three bites of blueberry cake. He chews every one slowly and thoroughly, contemplating his answer. 

“He loves me.”

“Well– duh,” Darcy replies dryly, rolling her eyes.

Loki glares at her, but even he notices how weak it is. Most likely he looks as pathetic as he feels.

“Thor fancies me and wants to have me in every way possible,” Loki says, making little quotation marks in the air with his fingers.

“That explains a lot, actually. I always thought there was more to that weird codependency thing you guys have going on.”

Loki flops back into the cushions and stares up at the ceiling, sighing quietly. He’d actually hoped for a little more sympathy and moral support from Darcy.

“I take it you didn’t fall into his arms and let him fuck you silly,” Darcy says, nudging him gently.

“It’s _incest_ ,” Loki says helplessly, repeating the mantra he can’t seem to get over.

“Says the man who kills people for a living. At least incest doesn’t get you thrown in jail,” Darcy says. She frowns. “Or does it?”

“I mean,” she continues, smiling at Loki and stroking his cheek. He leans into it, so grateful for that small kindness he wants to punch something. 

“You’re so close, it always feels like you’re already a couple, just without the sex. That blond friend of Thor, he thinks that you’re platonically _in_ love, and that’s why you both can’t ever keep a girlfriend or boyfriend. There’s just _no room_ for anyone else.”

Loki listens to her with growing dread. 

“It sounds so easy when you say it like that,” he says, his voice unsteady. “We both live completely outside the law and standard morals, so there shouldn’t even be an issue, but I can’t–”

“Do you want him, too?” Darcy interrupts him. “I mean, like this.” She makes a rude gesture, political incorrect darling that she is, and Loki can’t help but snort.

“I’ve wanked myself raw for the last two days,” he replies, refusing to blush. His muscles are aching and he’s still sore in long forgotten places, but that’s way more information than Darcy needs to know.

There’s nothing to add after that. They drink their coffee in companionable silence. Loki only now realizes how much he’s missed this, just being a normal guy hanging out with his best friend, and not a killing machine or the son of a crime lord.

“You know, he’s not going to do the thing to you.” 

“That thing you both do,” she clarifies when Loki looks at her questioningly. “Kicking people out of your bed as soon as there’s even a spark of interest for more.”

Loki’s cup is rattling on its saucer. His hands are shaking with the force of the knot he’s been carrying for days unraveling in his chest. It’s alarming how much sense that simple sentence from Darcy makes. 

There’s only one thing that Loki is afraid to lose, Thor. It’s only a sign of how fucked up he truly is, that the prospect of having more of what he wants made him panic and run.

`****`

Standing before Thor’s door, he still feels like running. The only thing that’s keeping him is Darcy, who’s still sitting in her car in front of the building, and the fact that he already rang the bell, which he thinks might turn out as the biggest mistake he ever made. 

Over several cups of coffee Darcy somehow convinced him that being a coward and pussyfooting around the issue was the best way to lose his brother. It made perfect sense, and he’d felt empowered by finally taking action, but the feeling lasted only as long as the ride between their places in Darcy’s car.

It’s only when the door opens and Thor easily fills the frame with his wide shoulders, shielding the inside of his apartment from too curious looks out of sheer habit, that Loki realizes he has not even an inkling of an idea what to do.

“Loki,” Thor greets him quietly, steeping aside to let Loki in. He looks rumpled, wearing only his sleep pants, like he just rolled out of bed.

He seems surprised to see Loki and looks at him pensively, almost like he can’t think of a single thing why Loki would be here. All the humor and warmth Loki has always taken for granted is missing. It’s all so wrong and Loki wants–

Thor’s lips are slack with surprise against Loki’s, his shoulders tense. Loki’s heart is pounding fast in his chest, like a small bird’s, fear of ruining everything warring with a sudden rush of _wantwantwant_. 

The moment seems too fragile, with Thor completely still against him.

Loki is desperate for a reaction, just _anything_. He presses closer, fully prepared to be pushed away because he’s waited too long and now it’s too late, but Thor’s hand clamps down heavily on his neck at the first tentative swipe of Loki’s tongue.

Thor makes a small sound in the back of his throat, almost like he’s hurt, and then he’s kissing Loki, _really_ kissing him. He’s greedy, angles Loki’s head the way he wants him and tangles their tongues until Loki feels dizzy with it and the relief that rushes through him. It’s wet and clumsy, with teeth nipping too hard and their noses bumping, and it’s the best kiss Loki’s ever had. 

“What made you change you change your mind,” Thor asks, lips dragging over Loki’s temple. His voice is tight and he’s enveloping Loki in his big arms like he’s afraid he’s just a figment of his imagination.

“A good ass-kicking,” Loki says breathlessly, seeking Thor’s mouth again because now that he’s had a taste it’s like he can’t get enough. “I’m sorry,” he says between small nipping kisses, “I didn’t know— I was so afraid.”

“God, I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have—”

“Shhh,” Loki murmurs, shushing Thor with his fingers on his lips. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” 

Loki still isn’t sure he’s not going to run if he lets himself think too much, so he loses himself in Thor’s taste, the stark contrast between the softness of his hair and the hard muscle of his body. Loki’s hands are shaking with impatience and nerves where he’s stroking over the width of Thor’s shoulders, his back pressed against the wall and his hips stilled by his brother’s unrelenting grip. There’s not enough air, just hot breath and little moans in the small space between them.

They make it to the bedroom without any major injuries only by sheer dumb luck. Loki bangs his hip against the bureau in the hallway and Thor almost trips over the cord of the floor lamp in the bedroom, but when they finally fall on the bed, laughing breathlessly into yet another kiss, they’re mostly unscathed. 

The bed looks rumpled, _feels_ rumpled, and there’s still the faint smell of a cologne that isn’t Thor’s. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying to forget his sorrow,” Thor smiles down at him. 

“Did it work,” Loki chokes out. He has to forcibly remind himself that he has no right whatsoever to be jealous of any of Thor’s lovers. 

It doesn’t help.

“No,” Thor whispers. “He had all the right looks, slender and lean, dark hair and green eyes.” He rolls his hips against Loki’s and licks over Loki’s lips, a filthy slick caress that sends Loki’s heart pounding in his throat. “But he wasn’t you.”

“So, now that you have me, what are you going to do to me, _brother_.” 

Lying here under Thor, all his concerns and doubts suddenly seem insignificant, already gone from his mind. It’s good, _so fucking good_ , and Loki wants it all. He lifts his hips slowly, brings their hips together in what’s little more than a tease, laughing breathlessly at the way Thor’s face goes slack at the feeling of their cocks sliding against each other.

“Such a tease,” Thor wheezes above him. 

He returns the favor by pressing Loki’s wrists into the mattress with one hand and cupping him between his legs with the other. Loki groans when those thick fingers flex against him slowly, his legs opening and sliding over Thor’s hips without thought. 

“I’m going to open you up with my fingers,” Thor murmurs with a sharp nip to Loki’s jaw. “Put my cock in you, make you take it and fuck you so hard.” 

“Do it,” Loki hisses. He tugs his hands free and fists them in Thor’s hair, biting Thor’s lip with a frustrated groan. 

He _wants_ it, can already taste the deep burn of cock sliding into him. Thor feels huge against him, and Loki will feel it for days, but his body has already decided it loves the idea of being split open. His cock is leaking, and Loki rubs himself shamelessly against Thor, desperate for friction and Thor’s hands on him. 

Thor rolls off Loki and the bed like he’s been burned, cursing under his breath. His sleep pants are easily taken care off, but Loki is not so lucky. By the time Thor is naked and Loki looks up at him with his breath hitching in his throat, marveling at just _how much_ there is of him, Loki has only managed to lose his t-shirt and fumble his flies open. He grunts in frustration and wiggles his hips, but only manages to tangle the fabric around his legs. 

“Eager, aren’t we, _brother_ ,” Thor grins down at him with a wink.

Really, Loki wants to slap his smug face, but then Thor takes mercy on Loki and tugs on his jeans and boxers and Loki’s mouth goes dry when he looks down his body, all thoughts of violence gone. 

He’s known Thor all his life, has seen him naked and seen him fuck, but knowing the thick cock curving against Thor’s stomach is slick and wet because of him is such a heady feeling, it has him choking on his own arousal.

With his pants gone and free to move, Loki scoots up further up the bed, Thor crawling right after him like a huge golden cat. He spreads Loki’s legs and makes room for himself with those broad shoulders that Loki can’t stop himself from touching, the tips of his fingers skimming over thick cords of muscle under smooth skin. 

For one long moment Loki almost fears that Thor will leave him here just like that and he’ll go out of his mind with want, and then Loki can only whimper pitifully when Thor finally lowers his head and licks his cock from root to tip in a filthy long slide. 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Thor says, and Loki realizes he must have said that out loud. Thor is cradling Loki’s cock against his cheek with a look of pure bliss, biting his lip and lashes fluttering, and fuck if that isn’t that the hottest thing Loki has ever seen.

“God, _please_ ,” Loki pleads, guiding Thor’s head where he wants him with a hand in his hair, “give me your mouth.” 

It figures that bed is the one place where Thor takes orders well. 

His lips are tight and hot around the tip of Loki’s cock, perfect suction that hollows out his cheeks, and Loki feels like clawing out of his skin with the teasing flutter of Thor’s tongue against his slit. It’s too much too soon, his balls already drawing up against his body and his thighs shaking with the effort to hold back. When Thor pulls off with an obscene slurp, his tongue curling around the head of Loki’s cock in a parting caress, Loki whines in equal parts of gratitude and utter frustration.

“I didn’t take you for such an enthusiastic and talented cocksucker,” Loki laughs shakily. He tugs at Thor’s hair until Thor gets the hint and comes up for a kiss, lets Loki lap his own taste out of his mouth. 

“Only when I have the right motivation,” Thor smiles into the kiss and sucks Loki’s tongue into his mouth. He hooks his thumb over Loki’s cock, drags it away from his stomach and lets it slap back playfully. Loki hums a small laugh at that and pulls Thor back in for more kisses. 

There’s the sharp snick of a plastic bottle and then Thor’s hand is back between Loki’s legs, slick fingers cupping Loki’s balls before a finger teases further back, rubbing softly over his hole. Loki arches into the touch and digs his heels into the mattress, hips shifting while he tries to coax that finger in. 

Loki’s whole body jolts when Thor breaches him. He’d almost forgotten the slow deep ache of being worked open by thick knuckles, but his body remembers. His legs slide open without conscious thought, begging for more, and when Thor complies and pushes inside with two thick fingers Loki just _can’t_ stay quiet, breath rushing out of him in a broken string of _please, oh God, please…_

“Gonna get you wet and open for me,” Thor says quietly, his fingers sliding into Loki’s ass, twisting and stroking him from the inside until Loki shudders helplessly when Thor skims his fingers over his prostate, _god, right there_.

“Next time, I’m going to lick you,” a quick flick of his tongue over Loki’s lips, “gonna eat your ass until you’re dripping wet.”

“Fuck,” Loki chokes out. His ass clenches involuntarily just thinking about Thor’s tongue sliding inside of him, slick and hot, the prickle of his beard against sensitive skin.

“That was an order,” he bites into Thor’s mouth when Thor just keeps kissing him, fingers pushing agonizingly slow into Loki’s ass, so deep, but barely skirting that place where Loki _needs it_.

“You know orders and I don’t go well together,” Thor grins.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Loki whispers, teeth bared in a sharp smile, and he clenches down hard on Thor fingers. He gasps at the curl of need that skitters up his spine, delighting in the way Thor’s eyes go completely black with arousal at Loki’s little display.

And then Thor is kneeling between Loki’s legs, moving too fast for a man his size, and there’s blunt pressure at Loki’s hole. Thor is cupping his ass in one large hand while he guides himself in with the other, filling Loki in a long relentless slide, stretching his ass wide around Thor’s girth. 

Loki squirms, his breath coming harshly while he adjusts to the burn and feeling of _too full_. He yelps when Thor cups the backs of his thighs and spreads them, presses Loki’s legs back against his chest until he’s almost folded in half.

“Oh God, please, just move,” Loki pleads, and then all speech leaves him when Thor pulls back and slams back in so hard he almost pushes Loki up against the headboard. Thor doesn’t let up, just scoots back on his knees towards the middle of the bed, pulling Loki with him, and Loki dimly thinks being manhandled like that shouldn’t be so mind numbingly hot.

“Fuck, Thor,” Loki chokes out at the feeling of Thor shifting deep inside of him. He’s half wrecked already just from being filled with cock, and nothing could have prepared him for the shock of pure heat and want that leaves him breathless when Thor fucks into him in short hard strokes.

Loki feels his whole body flush at the way Thor stares at him where he’s stretched tight around Thor’s cock. 

“I knew it, you were made for me,” Thor gasps, shoving in deeper, harder. Loki keens at the possessiveness in his voice, how Thor’s cock rubs him just right inside, the fat head skidding over his prostate in a delicious slide that has Loki sobbing his pleasure. 

“Got you,” Thor pants, shaking damp hair back from his face only to have it stick to his sweaty throat. Loki wants to touch, feel the slide of hot wet skin under his fingertips, but with Thor’s grip on him all he can do is lie back, let himself be filled with his brother’s cock and take it.

Thor _makes_ Loki take it, makes him beg, ‘oh fuck, _therethere_ , do that again’, and plead, ‘deeper, I need it deeper’, until he’s choking on how desperate he is. 

The second Thor touches his cock, Loki is gone. A firm squeeze and Thor’s thumb rubbing over the sensitive underside of Loki’s cock head is everything it takes to make Loki come with a gasp and shoot thick spatters of come, up his chest and over Thor’s fingers. His orgasm has the force of a freight train, makes Loki’s whole body go rigid and tight, his hole spasming where Thor is still fucking him through it.

“Fucking hell, Loki,” Thor gasps before he shoves in deep and comes with a long and shuddering groan. He collapses heavily on top of Loki, and for long moments they stay like that, a tangle of limbs and too winded to do anything but struggle for breath. 

Loki’s legs are finally his own again, and eventually he stretches languorously under Thor, body arching from head to toe, and Loki groans with how good it feels to loosen his cramped muscles. Thor’s cock slips out of him, and with it a trickle of wetness that Loki knows should vaguely concern him, but right now he’s feeling too fantastic to care. 

Thor rolls off of Loki, immediately pulling him close, and Loki lets him. He slots his body against Thor’s and puts a hand over Thor’s mouth when he starts to speak. 

They’ve never needed words to define what they are to each other. Loki doesn’t want them now. The sleepy contentment in Thor’s eyes is more than enough for him. 

He feels the same deep satisfaction, like a piece that was always missing finally slotted into place. He wonders if all those months Thor knew what it would feel like and was mourning the loss of what he thought he couldn’t have.

`****`

Loki wakes to the sound of running water and the smell of fresh coffee. He’s sore and aching, but even with blessed caffeine so temptingly near he can’t bring himself to move. 

Thor’s smile is warm and soft when he comes out of the bathroom and walks over to Loki, unashamedly naked. 

“Morning,” Loki smiles up at him, still a little sleepy. He slides his eyes over the wide expanse of skin, his heart beating faster when he lingers on the thick flaccid cock hanging between Thor’s powerful thighs.

“No touching,” Thor laughs, catching Loki’s hand when he reaches out for him. He squeezes Loki’s fingers in apology. “I have a meeting with father. I don’t think he’d appreciate my excuses for being late.” 

He winks at Loki, slipping into jeans and one of his v-necks, not bothering with underwear. Loki files that little detail away for later.

Thor disappears for a moment, and then the smell of French Roast is heavy in the air. Loki groans and struggles to sit, gesturing for the mug with grabby hands. 

“I love you,” Loki sighs and cradles the mug in his hands, smiling when he strokes over the little black cat with its green bow on it.

Thor just smiles at him, his eyes warm and crinkling at the corners.

“I have to go, I’m already late,” he says, tying his damp hair back with a ribbon.

“Tell father to hurry the fuck up,” Loki grouses. He holds the hand not holding his precious coffee out to Thor, scratching a nail over one of those seemingly always hard nipples when Thor bends down to him. 

“Now give us a kiss.”

`****`

Three days in and Loki’s orders at the little coffee shop across Laufey’s office come served with a bright smile and an extra large slice of cake. 

“You could use a little meat on your bones,” Esthel, the waitress on the morning shift, tells him. Loki rolls his eyes and tips her generously, and Esthel pockets the money with a wink.

The next day his cake comes with a helping of whipped cream, and the same well-meaning advice.

`****`

“We’re not making any progress,” Thor huffs around a mouthful of eggs. 

“No, probably not,” Loki agrees, staring blearily over the rim of his mug at Thor. “If I spend one more day at this coffee shop, I’ll end up rolling out of there.”

Loki’s phone alerts him to a new message. Darcy’s face smiles at him from the lock screen, the message reading _Details, asshole_ with a rather graphic emoticon attached. He smiles and texts back _Later_. For now the huge bouquet of flowers he’d sent her should tell her enough .

“He only leaves the house for trips to the office and public social events, never without a CPO or two. A little overboard for an alderman, but not for a mob boss.” Thor frowns. “His PA Signý runs most errands for him, and I’ve seen at least one guy coming and going regularly.”

“What about the things he needs to attend to personally? There have to be _some_ things he doesn’t entrust to his employees.”

“Quite a lot of different people come to the house, he seems to be the type to summon people rather than go out himself.”

Just like Odin, Loki thinks and refills his mug, adding some milk after a moment of hesitation. He’ll end up with a heart attack if he goes on like this, it can’t hurt to be more careful.

“Maybe we should change our approach,” Loki suggests.

“Trying to get to Laufey at home won’t be any easier, and we’re already behind schedule,” Thor objects, poking the remnants of his eggs. 

“Consider yourself lucky that you’re not the one who will have to present that little fact to father,” Loki sighs, and stands from the kitchen table. He strokes some strands of hair back from Thor’s face before he even realizes what he’s doing. They’ll have to be more careful. 

“I have a meeting with him tomorrow morning.” Loki makes a face. “Morning meaning almost at the crack of dawn. He’s already been asking for progress reports.”

“I’ll come and get you out of there if you’re not back by noon,” Thor says sympathetically. 

The worst thing is that he sounds like he actually means it. 

Loki thinks back to his meeting with Odin after the Quigley disaster and frowns. Odin is like a thick-headed bull, he simply doesn’t accept difficulties and set backs. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.

`****`

Loki strips the moment he closes the door to his apartment behind him. He throws his jacket and pants haphazardly over a chair in the living room and walks into the bedroom naked, ready to burrow under the covers again and be done with this day already. 

For a moment he just stares down at Thor sleeping on his stomach like the dead, still fucked out from the night before. 

It still feels surreal to see his brother naked in his bed, no, his _lover_ , all sleek skin and bulging muscles, wide shoulders and narrow hips, and Loki knows he’ll never tire of looking at him. He crawls into bed and fits himself on top of Thor, loving how easily Thor takes his weight, just hums sleepily and presses back into Loki’s touch.

“Thor, wake up,” Loki murmurs, licking a long stripe over the purple bruise he’d sucked into the meat of Thor’s shoulder last night. His cock stirs at the memory of Thor on his knees, shoving himself back onto Loki’s cock with utter abandon, and when Loki trails a hand between Thor’s cheeks he finds him still a little loose and fucked open. 

Thor parts his legs sleepily, groaning when Loki slips two fingers into his entrance and spreads more lube inside of him. 

“You’re still dripping with me,” Loki says, unable to stop himself from thrusting his cock lightly between Thor’s legs. “I’m going to fill you up, and then I’ll lick you out until you’re begging me to do it all again.” 

“Fuck yeah, I want that. Come on, do it,” Thor breathes, pushing his ass back and groaning when the head of Loki’s cock bumps his heavy sac. 

Loki parts him open with a slippery hand and presses inside. It’s slightly awkward and fumbling, because Loki is unwilling to give up any skin contact at all and just lifts his hips enough for his cock to slip between Thor’s cheeks, but then he’s finally inside, panting harshly at the feeling of soft, slick heat around his cock.

He braces himself with one hand on Thor’s shoulder and one tangling in his hair, and shoves in. Like this Loki doesn’t have much leverage. He fucks Thor slowly, but Thor is _working_ him, his internal muscles clenching and milking Loki’s cock until Loki feels his balls draw tight against his body.

And just like that Thor goes completely still under Loki, rasping out ‘not yet’ between huge gasps of breath. Loki curses, already teetering on the edge, but he somehow manages to hold back, if barely, and shivers his way back down with his forehead pressed between Thor’s shoulders.

When Thor finally moves again after what seems like ages, tiny shifts of his hips that have Loki gasping again within seconds, Loki stays stretched along Thor’s back. He pulls their bodies together with every thrust, clinging to Thor with one arm curled under his shoulder and one around his neck, feeding his fingers to Thor while he mouths desperate kisses into his brother’s sweaty skin. 

Loki is so _close_ , and when Thor sucks his fingers with an indecent slurping noise, he loses it. He shoves in hard, holds himself deep inside and comes with a low shout, his balls throbbing with the force of it and the still fresh thrill that it’s his brother’s ass he’s slicking with his come. 

“Loki, _come on_ ,” Thor gasps under him, struggling onto his knees. Loki sits back, still stupid with orgasm, and watches the wide expanse of Thor’s back shift and ripple. A ferocious snarl of _Mine_ claws out of Loki’s throat, and the tremble that he can _see_ curling up Thor’s spine at that – fuck, he’s itching to bite his marks into the glistening skin.

“Goddammit, Loki,” Thor hisses, his voice urgent. He’s a feast spread out for Loki, with his head pillowed on his arms and a hectic flush on his cheeks, knees spread wide enough to the point of discomfort. Loki carefully stores away his last thought for another time, and then he palms Thor open and leans in, pressing a teasing kiss to Thor’s fucked open hole. 

Loki licks Thor out slowly, lapping into him with delicate little flicks of his tongue, curling the tip just barely inside the rim. Thor is quiet at first, but when Loki pulls his entrance open with his thumbs, tongue pressing in between them to chase his own taste, he shudders and whines, the sound only slightly muffled by his thick arm. 

He’s beautiful, lost in pleasure, and Loki is almost tempted to keep him like this. But he’s learned that Thor can’t come like this, needs a hand or mouth on his cock to find release. Another difference between them, Loki thinks wryly. He hadn’t even know he could come like this until Thor had eaten him out with broad wet licks and infinite patience, not even stopping when Loki had been panting and crying, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of his release.

Resisting temptation, Loki licks lower, over the smooth patch of skin down to Thor’s balls. He lightly traces his tongue over the seam of Thor’s tightly drawn sac, feeling it spasm as soon as he closes a hand around Thor’s cock. Thor comes with a howl, fucking down into Loki’s loosely curled fist and slicking his fingers with thick streaks of come. 

After, he collapses like the dead, impossibly sprawling over the whole width of the bed. It takes some prodding and shoving until Loki can make some room for himself next to him. Thor rolls to his back with a groan and flings an arm over his eyes. 

“You know how they say practice makes perfect,” he says, huffing a laugh. “ I’m afraid I won’t survive if we ever get to that stage.”

Loki rolls to his side, propping his chin in his hand, and looks Thor over, eyes lingering greedily on the thick cock lying again his thigh, now soft and wet. He doesn’t think they’re done practicing for today. 

“You’re not seriously telling me that you’d rather be shot than dying with your cock up my ass,” Loki huffs, but he goes easily when Thor pulls him close. “If we’re lucky, the old man might find us and peg out, too.”

“The meeting was that bad?”

“Father’s not satisfied with our progress, gave me a lecture to not let our personal problems get in the way.” 

Loki sighs, petting the soft hair surrounding Thor’s nipples. “I don’t know, it was strange. He probably sensed that something was off when we weren’t– ” Loki flounders and makes a vague gesture between them, indicating the time they weren’t speaking because he was too busy freaking out. “He most likely thinks we’re not adult enough to handle it.”

“Give me an hour and I’ll show you just how much of an adult I am,” Thor murmurs. 

It’s almost three hours, and Loki doesn’t sleep through any of it. He’s back to worrying about Odin and the possible outcomes of a gang war, with only Thor’s light snoring for comfort. 

* * *

Loki wakes disoriented and aching. 

His blinks, but his vision stays blurry and he tastes blood in his mouth, feels the warm stickiness of clotting blood on the side of his face. The numb pain in his arms and legs tells him that he’s been bound for some time to what seems to be a sturdy chair, and over the rush of blood in his ears he thinks he hears somebody breathing.

“Glad you could join us, Loki,” a voice that sounds much too close says.

There’s a faint echo to it, which means the room they’re in is large, maybe a small warehouse or a workshop. 

His name is said in a mocking lilt. It shatters all hope that he was stupid enough to let an ordinary thug get the better of him. This guy— no, _these guys_ , because there’s a rustle of fabric behind him while the voice came from in front of him— they know who Loki is, and they definitely know their trade to get to him so easily. 

Loki doesn’t feel too badly dehydrated, so he assumes he wasn’t unconscious more than a few hours. The last thing he remembers is ordering a café au lait and settling in with his laptop at the coffee shop, prepared for another long day of stake out. 

“You know, I almost thought you were too busy. To join us, I mean.” 

Loki blinks frantically and it takes conscious effort not to sigh with relief when his vision finally sharpens. In the unlikely event of being lucky for once, he probably doesn’t even have a concussion, only a few nasty bruises on his face and head. 

A man is sitting on a chair in front of him with his legs crossed, just out of reach if Loki could only fucking move. He’s handsome in a boyish way, with short dark hair and startling blue eyes that are bright like Thor’s, but with an almost purplish tint. He’s wearing a dove gray suit, his hand, holding what seems to be a Glock, casually resting on his knee.

“Tell me, Loki,” and there’s that lilt again. “Oh, by the way, I’m Balder, how rude of me not to introduce myself. So, Loki, were you too busy thinking about your boyfriend to notice us?“ The man smiles pleasantly. ”Oh wait, he’s also your _brother_.”

“What do you want,” Loki croaks, stalling for time. 

His mind races frantically, trying to find an explanation how _anyone_ could have found out about Thor and him. Loki isn’t concerned about the incest part, not anymore, and this— Balder, whoever he is, is definitely walking the same side of the law as Loki himself and has nothing to gain from handing Loki over to the authorities.

“I have to say, I’m quite impresses with your brother’s skills. You scream like a girl when he fucks you,” Balder continues conversationally, another smile that makes Loki’s skin crawl smeared over his face. 

Fuck, _fuckfuckfuck_. 

Loki swept both their places for cameras and bugs just the other day, and had come up with nothing. Either Balder is bluffing and just trying to get a reaction from him, which doesn’t explain how he could even guess about them, or— Loki has absolutely no idea. He’ll have to worry later about where he got sloppy with his security checks. 

“What do you _want_ ,” Loki repeats. He subtly tries to test his bonds, but his hands are still too numb to even move. “If you want money…”

“Don’t insult me, Loki,” Balder says mildly and stands, walking the few steps it takes to reach Loki and crouch down in front of him. The rustling behind him gets louder, as if somebody is shifting on their feet. Guards, most likely. 

“Money is so ordinary. Do you think I want to blackmail you? Have you never heard about honor between criminals?” 

Balder blinks up at Loki and studies him closely with those strange eyes before he shakes he head sadly. 

“Probably not. In all honesty, I couldn’t care less if you let your brother screw you or not. In fact— I do understand about the love between siblings.” 

Balder strokes the muzzle of the gun slowly down Loki’s throat until he stops right over his rapidly beating heart. Loki stops breathing.

“I loved my brother Helbindi very dearly.” 

Loki sucks in air with a shocked gasp, but otherwise manages to stay silent. If Balder is after revenge for his brother, there’s no lie Loki can craft that will stop him from shooting him now. He knows that _he_ wouldn’t listen to any kind of bullshit explanations if he were in the same place. With at least two against one and his limbs completely useless, all he can do is hope that they’ll make it quick. 

“You didn’t know,” Balder says, a delighted grin lighting his face. “You don’t even know what you’ve done.”

Balder stands and meticulously straightens his cuffs before he offers his hand mockingly.

“Let me introduce myself again. I’m Balder, Balder Laufeyson. And you are Loki Odinson, who killed my brother, Laufey’s oldest son Helbindi.”

“Laufey doesn’t have children, asshole,” Loki bites out angrily. He’s done his research, he wouldn’t _miss_ something like that. 

“Having children doesn’t mean being a good father. You should know all about that,” Balder says dismissively, settling back on his chair. The Glock is once again casually pointed in Loki’s direction.

The fact that this guy would know anything about Loki’s problems with Odin is more than a little unsettling. 

“Helbindi grew up with our mother, Farbauti. He worked for our father, but their familial relations have been kept private. As for me, I enjoyed the best boarding schools this fine country has to offer.”

Balder laughs again, leaning back in his chair almost lazily. It would be so easy to shoot the arrogant fucker now. Loki almost chokes on his frustration.

“You, dear Loki, started a war. And all because you were thinking with your cock instead of using your head.” 

Loki thinks it would be a moot point to insist that his cock wasn’t even involved at the time and he only acted on orders. But Balder’s taunt tells him that Balder doesn’t know as much as he claims to, that his assumptions are flawed.

Loki’s limbs are finally starting to feel less numb with the subtle flexing he’s done, but he’s in no shape for any kind of attack.

“And how do you know it was me,” he snaps, trying to buy himself a little more time. 

“My father told me.”

Loki goes completely still at the casual remark. If this is true, the information could only come from someone inside Asgard, someone privy to critical information.

For a moment he’s so lost in a mix of cold fear and hatred that he doesn’t register the faint pop behind him. There’s a crash and another pop he now dimly registers as the sound of a silencer, and then Balder’s Glock clatters to the floor almost in slow motion, blood seeping from what looks like a clean shot through his shoulder. 

Balder shouts, his face twisted in equal parts anger and shock, and he stares at his shoulder in utter disbelief, losing precious seconds.

Loki’s heart is pounding fast with too much adrenaline, everything happening too fast for him to keep up with, but then he hears Thor’s fast heavy steps behind him, familiar and comforting, and this time Loki allows himself to sag into his bonds with relief. 

The Glock skitters over the floor to the sound of bones breaking, and Loki watches detachedly as Thor’s fists connect with Balder’s face and chest in a fit of fury, until nothing is left of those handsome features.

Loki can see Thor isn’t finished, his body still tensed to fight, but it seems that there was never a lot of fight in Balder to begin with. He’s swaying on his feet when Thor hauls him up and pushes him against the wall, a sickening wet sound rattling out of him with every breath. A crushed trachea, Loki muses curiously, probably a pierced lung as well. 

One precise shot would be enough to finish Balder off, but Thor empties the remaining four shots into him with a cold fury that Loki can only hope will never be turned against him. 

“God, Loki, are you ok,” Thor asks frantically, rushing to Loki’s side, Balder’s crumpled form already forgotten. His hands are shaking and too rough when he frees Loki and checks him for any serious damage, but Loki welcomes them anyway because the simple fact that he can feel them means that he’s alive. 

“How did you find me,” Loki croaks. He’s shaking, weak with the sudden absence of the fear that kept him alert.

“I didn’t,” Thor whispers. “I told you about the guy who comes to Laufey’s house every day, and today I decided to follow him.” He doesn’t meet Loki’s eyes, instead he busies himself with rubbing some feeling back into Loki’s hands. 

“God, Loki, what were you thinking? I watched them wait in their car in a small street behind Laufey’s office, and suddenly you were there. You seemed distracted and didn’t even notice them following you until— damn, Loki, this was dumb luck. What if we’re not so lucky next time?”

Loki stares at Thor helplessly. Thor’s description of what happened sounds vaguely familiar, but Loki still can’t think of why he would be so spectacularly careless. 

Except one thing, who is he kidding here. He’d thought about how Thor had been writhing under him earlier and how he couldn’t wait to repeat it all over again. 

“I guess I’m rather preoccupied lately,” Loki admits with a mirthless laugh, wincing when his scalp tightens painfully at the motion.

It’s not the worst beating he’s had, and neither the first or the last, and in two weeks most of his bruises will be gone. 

Loki can take the pain, but he can’t take the fear that has him still shaking. He never thought he’d make old bones and he’d been okay with that, but today— he could have died and lost this scary-wonderful thing he shares with Thor now. 

Loki realizes that he suddenly has something to lose, and it’s completely and utterly terrifying. 

He surges up and crashes their mouths together, reassuring himself that he still has this, still has _Thor_. 

Loki bites his fear and love into Thor’s mouth, and Thor fucks him hard against the wall. Loki screws himself back onto Thor’s cock with his chest and hands pressed into Balder’s blood, and when Thor tells him that he doesn’t have something to lose but to live for, Loki believes him.

`****`

“Your father will be with you shortly.”

Loki stares impassively after Anna, or is it Elena? Some things never change in Odin’s house. Like new secretaries in pencil skirts appearing and disappearing with clockwork precision, or that Loki will not ever be allowed to walk into his father’s office with just a simple knock. 

Odin’s summons hadn’t come as a surprise. Loki only wishes he’d been allowed to sleep off at least some of his aches before he has to face his father. 

When he is finally called inside, his still aching head is probably the reason he doesn’t sense something is wrong before it’s too late. 

Odin is standing in the middle of the large room, but he’s not alone. 

Heimdall, his right hand and bodyguard, is standing next to him; Hogun and Fandral, Thor’s closest friends and executives for Asgard’s most vital branches, a little off to the left.

With Loki and Thor Asgard’s managing board would be complete. 

Loki senses Thor more than he actually hears him, a familiar solid presence at his back. 

“Father,” Thor greets, but it sounds tense, like a question, and Loki has barely time to turn and wonder what is happening when a hard blow to his neck sends him to his knees. For a moment he’s almost paralyzed, but then he struggles to stand again, instincts kicking in after the first seconds of surprise, but those are _Thor’s hands_ holding him down and binding his wrists, and Loki doesn’t stand a chance against so much raw power. 

For a few seconds Loki stays like that, head bowed and breathing harshly, but when he twists on his knees and stares disbelievingly up at Thor it’s not his brother and lover’s face staring down at him, only an impassive mask. 

“I do not accept failure,” Odin says, his voice cold and clipped. 

“ _I_ failed?” Loki twists back and stares at Odin incredulously. “ _You_ didn’t know there’s a security leak—”

“Silence!” 

“Have you lost your fucking mind,” Loki grits out. 

Maybe he fucked up and let himself be caught, but it’s Odin who is too old and too blind to see that they have a traitor or a mole somewhere in Asgard’s highest ranks, somebody who told Laufey just who killed his son. Information only three people had access to. 

Loki knows it wasn’t him, and he feels suddenly and violently sick with the implied possibilities. He can’t believe his own father would sell him out, there’s nothing to gain for him from it, but Thor— Thor is preparing to take over the role as Asgard’s leader, and with Loki out of the picture he would have absolute power. 

It makes sense in a sick way, and Thor _did_ just restrain him. Loki refuses to believe it, can’t let himself think that _everything_ he had those last days with Thor was just a lie, or he’ll go out of his fucking mind.

“I should never have taken you,” Odin says, his voice cold. “Your blood is as weak as your father’s, nothing good could come from it.”

“My _father’s_?”

Loki’s shocked question cuts through the silence in the room. Everybody is looking at Odin but Heimdall, who has been with Odin since before Loki’s birth and seems to know and see everything.

“You all know that we have a silent agreement with alderman Laufey. But long before he was elected and that came to pass we had a different agreement, a truce between Asgard and Jotunheim. It was the only way to ensure our continued existence after a long war neither of us could win.”

Odin steps forward, still a commanding figure at his age, with a shock of white hair and Thor’s bright eyes, the story of a life lived written all over his face.

“A truce is only stable if the consequence for breaking it is most severe,” Odin continues, coming to stand before Loki, but Loki can’t bear to look at him. He’s feeling nauseous with fatigue and the imminent threat in the air, of something terrible to be revealed.

“No consequence is more severe than losing a child, so we exchanged our children as tokens of our sincerity. Loki was given to us, and in turn we gave Balder into Laufey’s care.” 

Every last piece slots into place with frightening clarity right before Loki’s eyes. A life of coming second to Thor, of never being good enough no matter how hard he tried. Loki never stood a chance, because he _wasn’t wanted_ , didn’t belong here. 

“Why didn’t you kill me then when Laufey betrayed you,” Loki rasps. “Isn’t that the consequence, killing the other’s child if the truce is broken?”

He wants to shout, but an odd calm is settling over him with the knowledge that this is a battle he can’t win, because he already lost it twenty-six years ago. 

“Who do you think is more beloved to a father, the son he sees grow up and become a man, or the one he gave away? Which of them will he mourn?”

_Not good enough._

That’s all there ever was to him, Loki realizes bitterly. Not good enough for Laufey to fight for his son. Not good enough to win Odin’s respect and love, not good enough for Thor to choose him.

Loki stares up at Odin. There’s nothing left for him without Asgard and Thor, and Loki knows he will die here tonight. But he won’t give Odin the satisfaction to see him break.

Helbindi’s death was a sign that Laufey couldn’t miss. He’d started to prepare for war the second he learned of Helbindi’s death, looking for revenge. A war that is inevitable with Laufey’s betrayal, and one Asgard could have easily won with Jotunheim weakened after Laufey’s death, but the opportunity is gone. By now Laufey will know what happened at the warehouse. He’ll tighten his security and there won’t be a chance to get to him for a long time.

Until now Loki never realized just how bitter failure tastes. He’d sensed that something was wrong right from the beginning, but instead of trusting his instincts he’d lost himself in sentiment, with nothing but _Thor_ on his mind.

Thor, who isn’t even his brother.

“Laufey never fed us false information, did he,” Loki laughs bitterly. It’s so easy too see now. “Jotunheim flourished under Laufey and Helbindi and grew too powerful. All you wanted was the first strike before they could rise and become a real threat.”

“That’s enough, Loki,” Thor growls behind him in warning, his hand digging cruelly into Loki’s shoulder until he can’t help but coil himself up to escape the pain. It’s the first time Thor is speaking since this farce has started, but nothing is left of the warmth that was always there in his voice for Loki.

It hurts, a feeling of loss so sharp it feels like Loki’s gut are flayed open and takes his breath away. 

“It was you, _father_ , who slipped Laufey the information that I killed Helbindi, wasn’t it. You made me kill my brother, and then you used me to bait Laufey. If Balder would have killed me, would you have pretended to mourn me and vowed vengeance?”

Loki smiles humorlessly.

“Did you forget to let Thor in on your plans, or why did he come to my rescue? How terribly inconvenient this must be for you. Why is _he_ not kneeling here? Didn’t your golden son fail, too?”

The pressure of cold steel against his neck shouldn’t surprise Loki. But it does, shattering what little hope he maybe had left, and Loki swallows around the bile that’s rising in his throat. He’s not afraid of dying, only of the absence of everything he loves, even if it was never his to begin with.

Thor’s hand has gentled on his shoulder in a bizarre last act of mercy. Loki leans into it, despite everything that’s happened comforted by the fact that he’ll die at Thor’s hand. 

The last thing Loki sees is Odin’t almost imperceptible nod.

`****`

From his kneeling point Loki watches Odin crumble gracelessly to the floor. For several long seconds his heart is beating still sluggish with fear, but then the rush of relief and confusion almost makes him sick. 

He stumbles to his feet, urged by one of Thor’s hands tugging at the cord binding his hands. 

Thor’s eyes and gun are trained on Heimdall, a dare for the older man to challenge him. He looks— fierce, _regal_ , somehow larger than life. It’s hard to pinpoint, less physical than in the way he carries himself, a man who finally broke his boundaries.

Thor is completely confident in Fandral’s and Hogun’s loyalty. They were chosen by Odin, but at Thor’s request.

But Heimdall has been Odin’s man, has always been _Asgard’s_ man. Without his acceptance and help Thor is already as dead as Odin. 

“Tonight Asgard lost its leader in a tragic series of events that won’t go unatoned.”

Thor’s voice is grave and befitting the situation, but Loki knows him well enough to hear the slight tremor in its voice.

“As his oldest son I’ll take over the responsibility to avenge his death and ensure Asgard’s continued prosperity and sovereignty. You’re free to leave now if you don’t accept my claim.”

Loki can’t help shivering at Thor’s short speech. The whole situation is completely surreal, like something out of an old Greek drama.

Odin will end up dumped somewhere in Jotunheim territory and the whole city will quake under the subsequent gang war. The old man will get his war, only at the cost of his own life instead of Loki’s. Loki can’t help the shaky laugh that bubbles out of him, his fist covering his heart in the old gesture of fealty before his brain even registers it. 

A quick glance to his left shows that Fandral and Hogun already did the same, and Loki waits with baited breath for any kind of reaction from Heimdall. He can feel the tension radiating from Thor, sees the strain in the arm that’s still pointing the gun at Heimdall who’s standing across the room, watching them impassively. 

Loki wonders what Heimdall sees when his eyes flicker between him and Thor and come to rest on Odin’s lifeless body. Next to him Thor tenses when Heimdall suddenly steps forward. 

“Where do you want us to bring him,” Heimdall says in that peculiar deep voice of his. He stops before the body, his eyes firmly trained on Thor. His fist rises to his chest slowly.

Loki feels like fainting at the sudden rush of tension draining from his body. 

The only thing that’s stopping him is that he doesn’t think his pride can take being rescued like a damsel in distress for a third time in less than two days. 

`****`

“How long have you known?”

They’re in Thor’s bedroom. They’ll have to go back in a few hours when word of Odin’s death will arrive, talk to Frigga and comfort her while trying to find out if she knew about Odin’s plan. Loki has a feeling she won’t grieve for long, and he’s glad for it. She may not be his real mother, but to him she’s the only one he ever had. 

Thor’s arm tightens around Loki and pulls him closer to his chest.

“That I’d kill him? Only a few minutes before I did. He called me into his office before the rest of you came in and told me to kill you because you were a liability. Just like that, as if it was another job.” 

He strokes a hand down Loki’s arm, linking their hands tightly. “I’m sorry I had to frighten you, but I couldn’t risk giving you a sign.”

“The whole situation was, _still is_ beyond fucked up,” Loki says quietly. 

“I knew that something was off since he sent us after Helbindi,” Thor continues, voice still tight. “We talked a lot about Asgard’s future in our meetings, about me taking over and what our goals were for the future, but he _never_ mentioned you. Christ, Loki, I never thought that he’d go so far.” 

“How were you supposed to know?” 

Loki swallows, and stuffs the feeling of _not good enough_ into a far corner of that tiny compartment in his mind. It’s starting to get crammed in there. 

“Hell, Thor, he made us shoot our brothers, and he didn’t even care that you killed his son, just how sick is that.”

“I have only one brother and I’m going to kill anyone who’s trying to take him from me.”

Loki just lies there, with Thor’s steady heartbeat under his cheek, and mouths the words back into Thor’s skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is much appreciated! For updates, snippets and whinings on my fics, feel free to add me on [tumblr](http://ohfreckle.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](http://twitter.com/ohfreckle)


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